


Lean On Me

by LordGrimwing



Series: Can't Have Cake and Eat it Too [8]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Friendship, Gen, The war is starting to brew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: As tensions build in Iacon, Prowl visits Jazz in Polyhex.Jazz is excited to see his friend again but soon realizes Prowl isn't doing well.
Relationships: Jazz & Prowl
Series: Can't Have Cake and Eat it Too [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/527221
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Lean On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Prowl may seem OOC. This story is set in a pre-war series I created to explained Prowl's and Red Alert's glitches. Prowl does not have that glitch yet so he is just a normal mech. Prowl and Jazz (and their relationship) may make more sense if you read 'I'd Like to Thank the Academy' and 'We Grow Up But Things Don't Change'.   
> The other stories so far in this series focus on Red Alert and his relationship with Prowl, should you be interested in that.
> 
> If you already read 'I'd Like to Thank the Academy' then you may noticed I dropped Jazz's accent. Since this story if from Jazz's perspective, I saw no reason to write the accent (who hears their own accent?) and only do his speech impediment (struggles to use 'r' sounds).

_ “In other news,” _ the yellow news anchor leaned closer to the camera,  _ “Tension in Iacon grows as city leadership finally admits that a recent string of freak accidents have, in fact, been organized acts of terror’.” _ The scene cut to image captures of several collapsed buildings.  _ “Alpha Trion urges citizens to ‘remain calm; however, we've ‘received whispers of what could be a mass exodus from the state should the terror group not be stopped.” _ The mech watching the late night news yawned, rubbing at his helm.  _ “Travel to and from the city 'remains closely monitored.” _

“No slag.” Jazz muttered, tuning out the broadcast as he looked at the time. “All that and Prowl still managed to make it ovah he’e.” He mused, stepping out of the waiting room. 

Outside, the trans-state transport station slowly filled with small groups of tired Polyhexians, groggily looking forward to some acquaintance’s arrival, or a late night departure. Jazz willingly counted himself in the former group. When Prowl asked if he could visit him in Polyhex for a few days, there was no way in the pit Jazz would complain about his friend’s arrival time, or the short notice. He wasn’t working on a film so one night of recharge could be squandered. 

Jazz bounced on the tips of his peds. Although he’d kept up a steady correspondence with Prowl--mainly through letters after the Iaconian admitted he struggled to understand what Jazz said over the low quality recordings--this would be the first time they could meet in person since stumbling into each other three years earlier while Jazz was working in Iacon. Non-work related travel permits to enter Iacon were a bit outside Jazz’s price range and Polyhexian stunt doubles were in historically low demand. 

Prowl had offered to make the trip to Polyhex a couple of years ago, when Jazz was in a rough spot between jobs. Jazz was touched by the offer, but Prowl was still a new enforcer at the time and dealing with the biases his coworkers had against Praxians (his carrier was from Praxis and although he’d never even been to the city, Prowl’s heritage was obvious). Jazz insisted the young enforcer shouldn’t risk what ground he had gained by suddenly asking for time off to visit another city. It hadn’t taken much to convince Prowl he was right. 

The transport glided into the station. The blue-grey doors rolled open as an automated voice, so heavily modulated that nobody could tell what city the speaker could come from, kindly asked patrons to disembark and take all personal belongings with them. Tired mechs and femmes spilled out of the doors, calling greetings to friends or business associates, exchanging hugs, or just heading straight for the exit.

“Prowl!” Jazz shouted when he saw the black and white mech disembarking, waving a hand in the air and jogging toward him. 

“Jazz!” Prowl called, Iacon accent sharp among the Polyhex slurs. His doorwings fluttered as the shorter mech reached him. Other than slightly thicker armer, Prowl looked the same as he had a year ago, when they’d last been able to talk over a live connection strong enough to handle a video.

There was a moment of awkwardness then, when Jazz threw his arms out to embrace and Prowl extended a hand to shake. For an instant, they were both immutable forces, each waiting for the other to accept their offered greeting. It passed though, as Jazz clasped the offered hand in both of his, shaking it and grinning like a fool. Nobody else minded the display: the station was full of tired, joyous meetings. 

“Feels like I haven’t seen ya face in ages, my mech.” The Polyhexian gushed, leading Prowl toward the exit gate. “Gods above and below, this is fantastic!” 

Prowl laughed a little at his companion’s exuberance. “I know. It’s been all I could think about the last few days.” 

If the edges of his words were strained, Jazz seemed not to notice. 

“Mech, mech, I have so many things to show you. Iacon may considah itself the capital of Cybertron, but it’s got nothing on ah cultucha. And, I just found out today an o’ganic zoo opened up in the east qua’tah. Bit of a d’ive but I hea’ the’e’s nothing like it.” They were now walking along the road in front of the station. It was late enough that the traffic was sparse. Jazz had meant to drive to his apartment but he was distracted by the talking and it wasn’t too far of a walk. 

“Sounds great.” Prowl replied, blinking slowly, wings sagging back.

Jazz frowned. “You good, Prowl?”

“Fine.” The young enforcer deflected. “A little travel lagged, I guess. I have never actually left Iacon before.”

“Oh.” Now Jazz was paying attention though, his friend didn’t look so great. His optics were off color, the way some bots’ got with chronic lack of recharge. His finish coat (used in many cities to protect against acid rain) was splotchy and old. Prowl had probably been touching it up as needed rather than redoing the whole thing. Jazz was also pretty sure he could see a couple of recently repaired dents--his own line of work made him intimately familiar with dent repair. “You suhe?”

Prowl opened his mouth, paused, signed. “Actually,” he admitted, “work’s been . . . straining.”

That looked like it might be the understatement of the century. Jazz raised his hands, slowing to a stop. “I get it, I get it.” He reassured, tone light. “I’m always slagged aftah a long shoot. ‘echa’ge for almost a whole day sometimes.” He smiled, remembering the time he couldn’t even stand up right after filming finished for a particularly explosive movie. “We can d’ive f’om he’e, or call a transpo’ if you want.”

“Driving’s fine.”

“You suhe?” Jazz repeated.

“Jazz,” Prowl cocked an optic ridge. “I know all about impaired driving. I’m good.”

And with that, they stepped into the street and transformed. Jazz led the way deeper into the Polyhex. He kept his sensors on Prowl the whole way.

**Author's Note:**

> Title barrowed from 'Lean On Me' by Bill Withers. I felt this song was particularly appropriate.
> 
> Planning one more chapter on this but seeing as it took me about 3.5 years to finish this one, I'm not gonna even pretend to commit to a time frame. However, I have started the next chapter and I know most of what I want to happen in it. 
> 
> Comments are always loved.


End file.
